Foolish
by Panda-Monium72
Summary: I've always had secrets. Secrets that none needed to find out. But that has changed now. My cover has blown, I must flee with an unexpected ally, and save the man who is the last hope in stopping the Templars. I'm Celline Kendall. And I'm an Assassin. R
1. Chapter 1

So, yea. This is my first fanfic. I wanted to upload this weeks ago, but I got a case of the strep throat a few days after school got out (probably from being so stressed on finals) and I just got back from vacation, but it's here and I hope you enjoy it =) I'm having trouble with chpt. 2, but I should get it up in a week.

I knew this could happen. Knew it WOULD happen. But now, I made a mistake and need to flee my home to meet my Master before my enemies kill me and the last hope for humanity. I'm Celline Kendall, and I am an Assassin. Please enjoy, and review.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Assassin's Creed [I wish! (insert sad face here)], future characters, Beaverton, Oregon, and all that awesome stuff millions of people have come to love and have fangirl-obsessions.

I do own Celline, and the made-up people. You know why? Cause I made them =P

* * *

I climbed through the window, stumbling as the tip of my boot caught on a chair. As I fell to the floor, I could feel the blood on my face spreading to the woolen carpet.

I sighed with great relief. It was good to be home (no matter how late it was). I was just glad to be out of the cold night and in one piece after that mission. I laid on the floor, taking in the wonderful fact that I was alive...for now. I had lost a lot of blood, and felt so light-headed that I just wanted to sleep right there, drift into the world of unconsciousness and let my body heal. But I had to make preparations for tomorrow. _I wonder what time it is?_ I thought. Through the blood in my eyes, I looked up to my digital clock on my bedpost:

_1:07 A.M._

_Dammit_, I thought. It's a school night and I need to keep my cover. A teenaged girl-nerd coming to school with cuts and gashes covering her will make authorities suspicious.

Moaning from exhaustion, I rolled on to my stomach and stood up, much to my body's protest. Stumbling through the darkness, I found the light switch I long ago memorized and flipped it on. Instantly, a pale light illuminated my small room, making it look rather eerie. My eyes wandered to the familiar furniture my parents had chosen for me:

My desk bed stood erect in the corner and stretched to the other side of the room, where my white bed post stood just as tall so I could turn my alarm clock off the moment I climbed down the steps. Right next to that was my oak dresser with a clutter of little knickknacks covering its' surface and a large mirror framed above it. My closet doors were folded shutters spanning from my door in the corner, to the window that I climbed in. The walls were a cheery, bright yellow color, with the roof colored a pale morning sunrise.

Sighing, I began to undress. I pulled on the straps and buckles of my weapons; taking the knives out of the slots on my red leather belt, unhooking my side-arm pistol, removing my sheathed sword from the hangers on my belt and, of course, my leather gauntlet with a deadly surprise to anyone who doesn't see me before I'm next to them.

Once all my weapons were off and placed in hiding, -my closet had a large, secret compartment that I discovered years ago- I tore my white robe off. The elegant designs and protective hood were now drenched in the blood of my victim's, and perhaps some of mine. I sighed when I saw the damage, knowing I would have to bleach it again in secret, but I had to be more careful. My mother almost pulled it out of the dryer when I burst into the laundry room, immediately grabbed all the laundry, and called back, "I got it!"

I couldn't let her know my secret.

Once my robes were off and replaced with my black night clothes, I glanced back at the clock out of sheer curiosity.

_1:15 A.M._

I gotta work fast if I want to get at least a few hours of sleep.

I carefully gathered up the robes when I saw the gash on my arm through the slight light. It had slowed its' bleeding, but still continued. I shuddered and quickly turned the light off so I could open the door without waking my brother or parents to a light in the hallway. I tip-toed down to the laundry room so I could clean my garments.

I threw the robe into the washer and tried as quietly as I could to turn on the machine. Putting in the appropriate amount of bleach, I set the device to _Whitest Whites_ and listened with stiff muscles as it beeped loudly and began to tumble. I let go of the breath I didn't know I was holding when I heard no other noise in the night, and tip-toed to the bathroom.

Shutting the door behind me, I turned on the light, putting pressure on both ends of the switch so it doesn't make that annoying _click_. Only then did I feel like I made the loudest gasp in the world when I looked into the mirror.

My wound was worst than I originally thought.

The long, deep, and straight gash that winded down the left side of my face from my eyebrow to the jawline made my legs so wobbly that I clung to the edge of the sink trying to steady myself as I stared at the monster in the mirror. I could see faint spots of my cheek bone poking through the torn muscles of my face and those muscles taunt as I twitched with disgust. The blood that flowed elegantly through my pale face had ruptured and now streamed down my neck, was in the corner of my left eye, and caked on my nose. Thankfully, before I was given the wound, I had decided to bring some cloth in case I had an injury like this so I could stem the flow.

"Those bastards..." I muttered, fingers shaking as I touched the sensitive skin on my cheek, "They will pay for this...I may be lucky to be alive, but they must be dreading over that fact."

I began to wash the blood off my face, rinsing a paper towel under hot water that ran slowly and quietly, and dabbing it against the gash, then wiped the blood off my nose and out of my eye.

"Wonderful..." I muttered with disgust. "Now to stitch the wound. Won't that be fun..."

I repeated my quiet stalking of the darkness, turning the light off, opening the door, and repeat until I was back in the bathroom with a spool of black thread and needle drenched in hand sanitizer. I felt extremely grateful that my mother was a sewer.

I carefully poked the thread through the hole of the needle and stared at it for a moment. This was going to be a pain in the...

I shook the curses my mind was conjuring away and grabbed a cloth towel off the bathroom railing and shoved it into my mouth so I could muffle the inevitable scream. I took a deep, long breath through my nose, trying to compose myself before digging the needle through the broken skin of the wound.

I could honestly say, it stung, but didn't hurt.

Well, actually it did hurt, once the first stitch was in.

I screamed into the cloth, my body trembling to the floor and eyes watering with tears when I tried to come around for the second stitch. I just sat there, on the dimmed bathroom floor crying and letting my muffled screams echo in my mind. I mentally slapped myself, my own ignorant and demanding spirit kicking me in the butt to quit crying like the whores in my gym class and just get the job done so we could just sleep. Standing up again with shaky legs, I brought the needle back into my face and continued the weaving.

Once the gash on my cheek was closed, I turned my attention to my arm. It wasn't as bad as the wound on my face, -neither as deep, or wide- but was still in dire risk of infection. I cleaned the needle and threaded it, then set to work.

_Eh, not half bad for a nerd. Like I said, we can take care of ourselves! _I chuckled silently along with the more aggressive side of my mind when I stepped back to admire the stitches.

I quietly sneaked out of the bathroom. I was tired, and all my priorities were ready for tomorrow. I turned out the lights, and climbed into bed, taking in the wonderful warmth of the sheets, the caressing thoughts of being safe.

My last thoughts before my identity slipped into the plane of dreams were how I could last any longer with this secret...

My friends were suspicious of me never coming to hang out with them at games or at the mall...

My teachers wondering where I get all these injuries...

My parents concerned for my lack of sleep and coming home late...

And the body I left behind at the warehouse would be discovered soon.

Sighing, I threw the sheets over my head and fell asleep.

Those are the risks I must live with in the Order.

Those are risks of being an Assassin.

* * *

_"Hey, good morning KRKT listeners! It's 6:30 a.m on this beautiful Friday morning, I'm Scott __and this is in the newsroom."_

I groaned, unwilling to lift my exhausted body from the sheets as the radio announcements came on. Actually, I think it was on for some time because I remember I could hear country music in my sleep.

I clumsily climbed out of bed, stumbling on the last step of the ladder but quickly catching my balance on the corner of the dresser. Oh what a night! I hope it was a dream!

And then, the news I was dreading came on:

_"Some new info on the body found at the West Mill Warehouse in Beaverton has been released by authorities this morning. It was found last night at 11:56 P.M by grave-shift workers and identified as Richard Stephens, an employee of a nationwide pharmaceutical company. He was stabbed in the neck with an unidentifiable weapon."_

_Unidentifiable, my ass. The authorities just don't want to tell you high-strung media assholes so you don't freak out the citizens about a sword-wielding murderer._ God dammit, word was getting out fast. If I hear more news on this murder, I may need to jump town and use a new alias.

I grabbed my towel off the hanger by my door and stepped into the hallway. My brother sat in the computer/sewing room playing World of Warcraft. Without even turning, he said, "Morning", where I mumbled incoherently in reply and went into the bathroom.

I closed the door behind me, and upon seeing the image of my scar in the mirror, I remembered what had occurred last night. While I prepared for the day ahead, I pondered over the previous nightly events:

* * *

"Damnit, Richard, when will Don come? He was supposed to be here half an hour ago!"

"Quit your bitching, Greg. I'm so damn tired of you acting like such a diva."

The two men continued to argue, throwing insults at each other on how they are acting like stupid women and cowardly children. Eh, something along those lines at least. Their own ignorance may cost them their lives, as they did not see the shadow perched upon a tall stack of boxes and crates.

The man, Richard, looked rather unhealthy for his age. A bulbous belly was supported by stout legs and wide feet. His face was rather well kempt, with clear skin, a pudgy face, and tidy hair upon a nearly bald head. His whole person suggested a spoiled life-style, but I shouldn't be fooled for his apparently slow appearance, for he looked around nervously and twitched his muscles. He was a cat ready to spring, and with a sword at his belt to help bring down death. The other man, Greg, was just the opposite. A well defined body, rugged looks, blonde hair, he defined the meaning of 'hunk'! But obviously, his stubborn, arrogant nature that he just presented to Richard (and me) showed that he was just an idiot who tagged along for money. Then, I noticed he had a pistol strapped to the left side of his belt. I should take him out first.

"Now you two just settle down, mm'k? We're not going to win this war if we can't even stand being with our comrades for more than a few days." A smile crept across my face when I saw my target, Don Carols, enter the warehouse. He was dressed for the occasion: a black and white tuxedo with shiny black shoes to match. But my eyes wandered to the suitcase he was carrying...

_That's it..._ I thought, readjusting my crouch position so I could jump off the crates when I needed to strike. The others in my Order have been waiting too long for this, and now it has finally come...

"So, you got the info?" The man, Richard, asked as Don came forward with the suitcase.

"Yup, it's all right here...everything we need to know...aliases, the time he came to Oregon, motorcycle license, everything...we just need to send this back to Vidic and he should do the rest. Let me tell you, it was not easy. Apparently, this guy knew that some people were looking for him on the East Coast. No wonder he decided to enter the U.S. from the West."

"Not sure why he thought that he could come in undetected. For an Assassin, he ain't that smart." Greg snickered.

"But what about that little girl stationed here in Oregon? What should we do with her?" Richard questioned, somewhat nervously.

Greg laughed,"Bah, who cares about that crazy chick? She's just some idiot who thinks she's an Assassin because she can do some fancy jumps. We can take care of her."

Richard whirled around to face Greg, face showing anger towards his partner's ignorance, "You don't know what that bitch can do. She took on and killed five of my strongest men with nothing but a pocket knife! She shouldn't be taken lightly."

"Ha! You are such a pansy! I could take her down easily, as long as I got my meat shield," he patted Richard on the shoulder, "and my gun to shoot both!"

I watched as Richard and Greg began to throw punches at one another, then Don trying to break up the fight. I should take advantage of this distraction right...

_Now_. I leaped off the crates, angling my body in flight for Greg, flicking my left wrist to trigger the hidden blade. But Richard saw me with wide eyes, and let his feet fly away from the spot he stood at.

Greg jumped out of the way just as I hit the ground where he stood. I grimaced from the pain on my ankles, but quickly pulled my pistol out and took a shot at my original target, who was about to pull his own gun out. I heard him yelp as the bullet hit his good shoulder, but I was already running back toward the boxes. Better to fight with your back to a corner than have a knife in it. _Crap, maybe I should have thought this through a bit more..._

Don and Richard cautiously approached me as they drew their own swords. I responded with my own enthusiastic defense, my wild and dangerous side has now released with the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I smiled wickedly at the two men, lazily flicking the sword in my hand to intimidate them - dropping my fingers from the hilt, except my thumb and forefinger, than quickly flinging it backward and catching it as it came back around. The light from high above flickered on the steel, truly setting a blazing fear in my opponents, "So, come get me?" I asked with a seductive voice. I watched the men cringe back with disgust at my flirting voice, appalled that an ugly girl like me would talk like that to two dangerous men.

Don gritted his teeth, "God damn, whore! You shouldn't have come here!"

"Are we gonna talk dirt, or we gonna fight?" I asked cheerfully. Oh yes, fire was burning inside me now, and I'm sure they could see it too. They were nervous, visibly shaking legs and grips on their swords faltering. Both have seen or heard of me in action...chances were not in their favor.

Richard took the first swing, but the confined space of the boxes I took refuge in did not allow his sword to swing at maximum power. I retaliated his attack, swinging my sword in a circle around his, making it speed up until he lost control and it flung out of his hands. I took an advantage over his confusion, stepped forward from my "hiding spot" and plunged the sword into his throat. I watched blood gurgle through the fatal wound, both vein and artery snapping, trachea cracking, and esophagus deflating. His blood splattered my face and I laughed with grim satisfaction at his death. _One less asshole in the world._

But because of my foolishness of not keeping my back to the wall, I did not notice Don swinging his sword at me. The burning of steel against flesh came to my senses before anything else as I stumbled backward to the crates, holding my hand against my face. I could see Dons' smirk when he witnessed the blood flowing through my fingers. Obviously, he felt more cocky because he decided to take another swing at me, but I parried quickly. My mind started to faze and my body felt weak as I began to lose more blood.

At that moment, my own life was more important than the Creed. I needed to get out of here, even if that meant breaking one of the tenants. I let out a final thrust at Don, hoping to distract him while I ran like hell. It worked, my sword bounced off his and he staggered backward, giving me room to sprint out of the corner and to freedom. But the moment I escaped my corner, I saw Greg bring his gun up and pulling the trigger in my direction. I dodged bullets, hearing them cling and clang against the steel containers behind me. I ducked behind a steel girder (not much of a cover base) when the bullets caught up to me. I listened to the grunts Greg gave while he attempted to reload with one arm, but Don caught up to me. Upon seeing the tough, burly man leaning over the girder above me, I lashed out again with my sword, cutting his wrist. He snarled and slashed the sword to my side, but I quickly rolled out of the way just as the sword bit into my forearm. Firing a final shot from my pistol, my body let out a final burst of energy. I began to crawl under a cave of boxes, quickly pulling myself up through the opening on the other side and started scaling the boxes towards the window I entered through. Just before I climbed through the window, I looked back down to see Don and Greg staring at me while holding the now dead Richard. Even though there was a long distance between us and the poor light of the warehouse, I could see the anger in their eyes; but also a glint of victory.

And I knew they had won; they had the suitcase that my Master needed.

* * *

My mind snapped back to reality while I was blow-drying my hair. I hadn't even noticed that I was already in my room getting ready for school, for I was focusing on the memory. How strange time is...

_Time..._I thought. I looked up at the clock.

_7:40 A.M._

_OH SHIT! I'm gonna be late!_ I scuffed my hair up, this time actually trying to get my hair dry by separating the shoulder-length black locks. Every thirty-seconds or so, I'd look up at the clock, as if trying to stall time with a piercing glare.

_Okay, okay...ummm...brush, I need a brush..._I was just about to stumble out of my room when I remembered the scar across my face, _OH SHIT-STEAK! I can't let everyone see that! _Retreating back to my dresser, I frantically searched for the lip balm my mother had given me for Christmas. I never actually used it except to hide my major injuries – mainly because I hate wearing make-up and other girly items. Once finding it, I quickly covered the scar, watching it faintly disappear into the color of my skin. Squeezing it into the pocket of my blue jeans, I quickly left my room.

My mother was watching the news in the lounging chair when I stepped into the living room. Upon seeing my hair in a mess, she immediately began the normal rhetorical questions: "What is it with you taking thirty-minute showers, Celline? Won't you come out of your room more prepared? Have you had breakfast? Don't you want to be a lady someday? Did you know that ladies take care of their bodies thoroughly?

I smiled at her, quickly telling my wild side to just shut up and let the inner calm deal with my mother, "Hey, it's okay mom, relax. I'll get to school, have breakfast there, wear my hood until I can do my hair in a bathroom, and things should be just fine." Coming toward her, I gently placed a kiss on her cheek, "Quit worrying. I got this, mom."

My mother sighed and relaxed back into the chair. She was always like this when I look like some messy bum. She wants me to be a lady; something she believed she never was.

I really do hate keeping this secret.

* * *

Mr. Gibbson whirled around from the whiteboard and studied his class, eyes roving over every innocent or ignorant teenager. After a moment, he spoke sullenly in his Dr. Evil impression, "Get out a piece of paper. We are taking a quiz."

The class giggled at his Austin Powers movie reference and put away their biology notebooks. I was surrounded by sophomores and another freshman – my friend, Dale. Dale was also the one to be a smart-ass, as he was always shouting out in classes, demanding student rights, demanding that people call him "sexy" or "amazing", and all at the same time, people loved him for that.

"Hey, Mr. Gibbson! Guess what? I found this awesome book at the library. Want to hear what it's called?"

Mr. Gibbson rolled his eyes and slouch-turned to Dale. He asked in a bored tone, "Why, oh dear God, Dale, would a book be awesome to a boy your age?"

Dale's smile widened, "It was called 'Race to the Outhouse'."

"Let me guess...you found it in the normal section you go to: the toilet training section for rednecks."

Dale and the whole class burst out laughing, even I did...letting out a small chuckle at least. I did not find this kind of humor as...well...humor. But, it was always funny to listen to the rant Mr. Gibbson gives to his most hated and obnoxious student.

Mr. Gibbson and Dale continued their "conversation", putting out random jokes that went to our hick-cousins in the next county over, to the random stuff Mr. Gibbson collects and can put behind his desk (at one point during the conversation, he pulled out a slide whistle and started playing "Mary had a Little Lamb" and scared his students with a dead three-foot salamander...yeah, don't ask).

"Alright! Lets' stop fooling around and get to quizzing, chillins'!" He began to write on the whiteboard the first question. I read it before he said it out loud: What is the phylum name jellyfish are in?

I scrambled to my paper to write down cnidaria, when the phone by his desk rang. Mr. Gibbson let his head hang down and his body slightly slouched. We all knew that he hated being interrupted when he was teaching (even by his superiors). He goose-stepped over to his desk, and angrily picked up the phone. After listening for a moment and mumbling "Okay" he turned to me, eyes slightly bloodshot and I felt void close around me when he said, "You are needed at the office, Ms. Kendall."

Eyes and ears perked into my direction as I picked myself up from the desk and headed toward the iron door. What the bloody hell was the secretary thinking? Making me leave biology class, IN THE MIDDLE OF A QUIZ was in no way promising that I'd survive long enough for the rest of the class period with Mr. Gibbson's eyes glaring at me for 'interrupting' quiz time, even if it wasn't my fault.

But when I reached the corner where I could see the office, my blood chilled. I could not move my legs or catch my breath, but it seemed instinct had taken over. I ran back to biology class, away from the men standing by the office door. My trained eye saw their faces and hidden weapons before they noticed me. But then, I heard their footsteps pounding after me a moment later.

Don Carols and his bodyguard know who I am.


	2. Chapter 2

Ok, first off, sorry this chapter took forever to update. I had some trouble this weekend with my family (mother went on Martha mode with summer cleaning) and I guess I got distracted with all the awesome stories on this website.

Plus, I'm lazy. =)

(Note) I decided that since Ubisoft made Ezio talk in Italian when saying a prayer, and I'm sure most Assassin's had their own signature language for prayers, so I decided to make it so Celline uses her own different language to say Rest in Peace.

So I went with Scottish Gaelic =) (sorry if any of you can read the language, as some of the words/grammar of the language is a bit wrong. I had to guess some of it. You'd think an English to Scottish dictionary would have the word 'this' in it...)

Ok, I'm rambling now...

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Assassin's Creed or future characters, they belong to Ubisoft. Oregon belongs to the US, OC characters belong to me.

So, without further a due,

I give you chapter two!

* * *

_How did they find me?_ That was my first thought as I ran back to biology. My backpack was there and I needed to make sure it stayed away from Don and Greg – no sense in leaving personal things behind for them to pick up for DNA and ID. They must be really intimate in finding my head and putting it on a platter if they came this far. But then again, I should expect it from those high-end bastards.

I ran up the stairs to the science department with Don and Greg lagging behind. I burst through the door to Mr. Gibbson's class. While catching a breath, my entire class glanced over at me, looks of confusion and snobbishness while I walked over to my desk.

"Well, it has been an honor learning from you, Mr. Gibbson, but I'm afraid this is going to be the last time we see each other." I said while hoisting the black backpack onto my shoulders. "The same goes to all of you. I wish I could say final words to all of you, but I'm a bit behind schedule."

I began to make my way over to the laboratory door so I could slingshot to the back of the building and take the stairs down to the gym, when the ignorant teenager Ian blocked me.

"Why are you leaving, Celline? Did the police come for you or something?" _Close, you idiot_, "'Cause I'm not gonna let you through until you give me that pot. That's just wrong to let a bad person like that go." _...What?..._

"You think I'm being arrested for pot? You must be on it, Ian or just being you usual idiotic self. Now let me go before I get violent."

"Well, I don't know...I don't like being talked to like that..."

The door to class was suddenly pushed violently open and a slight scream from the others forced my head to whip around in the direction of the noise. Greg, who had his arm in a sling, poised his gun in my direction. A feral snarl was etched onto his face as he examined me trying to push past Ian.

"Leaving so soon, you murderous bitch?" Greg snarled while Don came through the other door on the opposite side of room where I was.

A trail of sweat dripped down my neck as my eyes glanced nervously around the room and at the faces of my wide-eyed classmates. I turned back to the men and, though my body was quivering with fear, embarrassment, and nervousness, my voice was clear and confident, "I don't know what you're talking about. I most certainly am not a murderer, so why don't you just leave?"

Don laughed while he pointed his own gun at me. Oh, how I hated his laugh. It sounded like a hyena caroling to the sound of really bad jazz. He loaded his pistol, but seeing the mixed emotions in my face, he looked to my classmates, whom were now huddled in a corner of the room, and let out a wide smile.

"I think you all should know something about the little gal over there named Celline...she murdered someone last night in cold blood...my good friend Richard Stephens. Actually, she has been murdering dozens of men, women, and children for about..." He paused, then glanced back at me, "How long now? Three years? Yes, that sounds about right..."

My classmates looked over at me in bewilderment, and it seemed they believed Don, for I saw the fear in their eyes. They never did trust me, for my quiet and honest nature was something to be suspicious of in this trashed town, but by letting these evil men reveal my terrible secret, my facade has been ultimately shattered. Everyone must think I'm insane. I couldn't help it. A thousand eyes were upon me.

I whirled around and caught Ian on the chin with a strong punch then reached for a classic Coke bottle on a desk. Seeing how quickly I reacted, Don and Greg started to open fire. I took cover behind the desk I had flipped over and smashed the coke bottle into large pieces. I took a hand-full of the elegantly designed shards, popped up from behind the desk, and let them flick away from my fingertips with lightning speed. I kneeled back down behind the laminated table within a microsecond of releasing my make-shift knives, then prepared to dart around the corner to finally rid myself of those nuisances that call themselves men. I heard the gunshots stop, then took the moment to leap over the desk. My feet were only in the air for a moment when they landed on Don's chest. Quickly taking the gun from his hand, I shoved it into his mouth and pulled the trigger before his face could show the surprised and terrified expression that I loved so dearly when bastards died. Blood splattered across my face and the floor around us as his brain scrambled to little bits like ground beef in the grinder, but before I could savor the grim satisfaction of his death, I looked up to see Greg aim in my direction and without hesitation, had pulled the trigger.

I felt the bullets rip through my left arm and right shoulder even as I took a flying leap towards my assailant. I let out an excruciating yelp as I collapsed on top of him and felt the muscles in my arms pull and tense even as I swatted the gun from his hand and pinned him down to the floor.

We both just laid there, ragged breathing and grunts of pain with me holding him down with all weight and strength combined. After a moment, I pressed the gun to his chest and gritted through my teeth, "How did you find me?"

Greg snarled and tried to flip me off of him, but to no success, as he was still injured with his good arm. Seeing how squirming will get him nowhere, he let spit drizzle out of his mouth in a sorry excuse for his anger towards me.

I cocked one eyebrow. Normally, interrogation would be easy if you just witnessed your boss for-hire had his brains blown out and a blood-crazed assassin was holding you down with a gun pressed to your heart. For a mercenary, he had guts to keep secrets. "I'll ask you again: how did you find me?" I cocked the gun and pressed it harder against his chest, hard enough to leave a bruise. I was surprised slightly when he suddenly chuckled.

"You leave a trail of blood a mile long, Assassin. It was no trouble in matching your DNA to all the cold cases you left police to handle with, and that AFIS pointed us right to this miserable town you chose to live in." he rotated his head to the wide-eyed witnesses huddled in the corner of the room, opposite of where we were, and a large grin spread across his face, "Oh, and I do believe you have broken another tenant in your little 'Creed'."

I looked over to the faces of my classmates. All of them looked at me in terror, as if I were some blood-sucking monster. They had witnessed me, the normally sweet, honest, and quiet girl, had committed a heinous crime: murder. Greg was right...I broke another tenant. _Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent. Physically or Emotionally._

Scowling, I turned my attention back to my enemy and examined him. So young, so brash...no doubt he didn't expect to meet death, nor did he expect to ever face it. Perhaps, I should make this a clean, quick death for him, for he was just a young man tricked into violent crimes for money. But he needed to die with the information he learned...but one more question...

"Where is the suitcase?" I whispered harshly.

"Safe from the likes of you. We shipped it off to New York already, but if you're quick enough, you might be able to reach Mr. Miles before he's gone too. Oh, and be careful...the police should be here soon." he chuckled and spat in my face, then grinned up at me as if he won.

With that answered, I let go of the gun and put one hand on his mouth and the other on the back of his head. Pushing down with all the force I could muster, I made a quick jerk to the left, snapping his neck with a _crack. _Closing his eyes, I whispered into his ear, "Éisd, mi déan cha away da, ach mi seall cha eile slighe. Fuirich anns sìth." I stepped off the body a moment after the prayer and glanced back at my classmates. They all stared at me with the same pained expression, and it only grew in intensity as I purposely dug my fingertips into the bullet wounds, pulling out the lead pellets. _Damnit, stop __scaring them even more, _my mind snapped at me after realizing what I just done. Looking down at the two bloody bullets, to the bodies of the deceased, and back to the faces of my old friends, I didn't know what to say. But they wouldn't care anymore either way.

"I'm sorry you all had to see that..." I had started, but a sophomore girl, a stoner that I sit next to and sometimes chat with, interrupted me.

"Y-you're...you're a mu-mu-murderer..." As if in unison, the others nodded their heads and tried to take another step back, even Mr. Gibbson tried to lengthen the distance where he stood from his favorite student.

I took a shaky breath, trying to calm my myself. Talking with these fools about how I did it for humanity will do nothing to lessen the trauma they are experiencing, nor the fear they now have against me. The cops were coming and would discover me, alongside the bodies, and were most certainly bribed to not let me tell my side of the story. Jaw clenched in frustration and a hand pressed against my shoulder, I strode to the door and left without saying a final word.

* * *

He always knew Celline Kendall was strange, but never this strange.

Jeremy Wilson looked with disbelief at the young, pale-skinned girl limp through the hallways, clutching at a blood drenched wound on her right shoulder with dark brown hair and white face splattered with a red liquid and...meat? Did she just get out of a slaughterhouse? She dragged behind her that black backpack of hers, probably because her shoulder was hurt, with a blood covered hand and she was doing something he never saw her do: cry.

No, she wasn't wailing or letting full-on streams go, but just dripping tears that turned pink once merged with the blood. He contemplated on running away to go tell a teacher, but something inside of him told him to ask her what was wrong, or better yet, what the hell happened. Bringing up the courage, he took cautious steps to her.

"Hey, Celline? Are you o-oh shit!"

Jeremy was extremely surprised when Celline had swung a pistol around with her left arm, the look of bloodlust clear on her face. Eyes still hazed over, she demanded in a hastily, and if not threatening voice, "Can you drive?"

* * *

Okay, maybe threatening the boy with a gun was a bit extreme, but I need the escort with my good shoulder wounded and the fact that I never got behind the wheel before (I know, sad huh?). On that note, I don't have time to persuade him peacefully!

The boy, Jeremy, stared at me in bewilderment under the glare of my gun, his normally charming stature seeming to shrink away at the sight of me looking like some kind of freakshow. I could have sworn by the look on his face that he came close to dropping a brick right there in the hallway. He started to slowly back away from me, hands raised in the air in surrender, when I decided that he won't go with me just by threats...

I grabbed his wrist and shoved him into the lockers, forcing my entire body weight into him despite my shoulder's protest. I needed to act menacing to him, something to install a fear into him that will last long enough til I get out of Oregon. Whispering into his ear, I practically snarled, "Listen, I don't have much time. I need to leave, and I can't because of my injuries. I'm sorry it had to come to this method, but I have little patience to explain to inbreeds like you. Now, lets' go."

"You're crazy if you think I'll go with you!" I raised my eyebrow in surprise, as he sounded very confident for a sixteen year-old. _Alright, buddy...I'm tired and hurt, so shake your butt and lets' go..._

Glancing down at his waist, I saw a leather belt held up his jeans through the loops. _I hope he doesn't get the wrong idea..._ I began to untie his belt, but my hands on his hips may have freaked him out a bit, as he started to struggle against me. I smacked him upside the head, growling into his ear, "You think I'm undressing you? Idiot..."

"Hey, if you need to tie me up, can you at least use the ribbon I have?" he snarled back. Pausing for a second, -more so surprised that he was acting very submissive to me, but hey...he is a pretty smart boy- I noticed he had a ribbon you would use for wrapping Christmas presents.

"Do you think I'm that stupid? You can just so easily snap it and run away from me!"

"It's just that I don't want you using my belt, okay? What if somebody walks by and sees you?"

"FREEZE! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!" the booming voice of the police chief and clicking of guns made my whole being freeze right on the spot. _Too late..._

"Oh, fuck it." Seeing a fire alarm not too far away, I pulled on it to create my getaway. The cops can't find me unless they look through the crowds of kids for a blood splattered girl. I pushed my body off of Jeremy, grabbed his wrist, and took off running as fast as I could, darting into a crowd of students already leaving their classes by the instructions and supervision from their teachers.

Jeremy and I weaved our way through the crowd of wide-eyed students, with the police hot on our trail. My distraction didn't go as well as I had thought, as the students wanted to stay away from me, else blood or mystery meat would get on them. The crowd opened up from the sight of me, allowing the police to keep their focus on us. Once again, my lack of planning through has come around and bit me in the ass. And I call myself an Assassin...

Once we were outside, I fired a few rounds back at the cops to slow them down, or at least make them more cautious as they chase us. I didn't want to hurt them, and I'm positive they had body armor hiding underneath their uniforms. The most surprising thing of it all is, they didn't shoot at me...

_Maybe they think Jeremy is a hostage? _Well, that is correct...I did force him into a wall, nearly 'sexual assaulted' him, threatened him with a gun, and tried to tie him up just so I could get a ride. Yeah, hostage would describe him...maybe I can use him to my advantage.

I knew where I needed to go while we ran down the long foyer in front of the gym. We were near two alleyways, one lead to the front of the school, where most likely more cops were waiting, the other to the smaller gym building and student parking lot, where possibly police set up patrols. _We just need to hijack a car and..._

Rounding a corner and breaking the police's line of sight, I turned to Jeremy, and cheerfully asked, "Ya ready for a little show?"

Before he could answer, I was behind him, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist and the other holding the gun to his head. Once the police were around the corner, I shouted at them, pretending to froth at the mouth to make my little desperate act seem more believable, as I was playing 'insane-criminal-nutcase-who-needs-to-go-to-Alcatraz-badly'. "One step further, and I'll blow his brains out!"

Seeming to catch onto my idea, Jeremy pretended to look panicked, and even begged the police not to follow us. Shocked a bit from his assistance, I continued the charade with that insane look on my face. Taking the gun away from Jeremy's head, I swung it towards the police, madness glinting in my eyes.

"Handcuff yourselves to that pipe." I snarled, gesturing towards the iron pipe on the wall. When they did no comply, I turned the gun back to Jeremy's head, "Do you want to kill him? Do what I say!"

"You're the one who is holding the hostage, Celline...now calm down, let go of the boy, and drop the gun." I sneered at the police chief. He doesn't know what he's gotten himself into and now he dares to reason with me? After all I worked for? A crowd was gathering behind the law enforcers, staring at us and watching the event unfold. Some were visibly afraid, mostly the women and some men who understood what was at stake here. All the others seemed as if this was just a football game, whooping loudly, calling my name, telling me to 'whoop their asses'. Fools...

I slowly started to back away from the cops, toward the back alleyway to the parking lot. Keeping my eyes on them, watching their every move as they did me, I said rather darkly, "I don't want to kill you and your team. You don't know what you just involved yourselves in..."

Suddenly, hands came up behind me and pushed both Jeremy and I down to the cement walkway. Before I knew what happened, Jeremy was out of my reach and someone locked me tightly against the wall, slapping cold, unforgiving handcuffs on my wrists.

I snarled and tried to twist around, but my hands were already bound. Through all of the blood in my face, I could make out the details of the crowd looking somewhat relieved that I was caught, and the police chief slightly smug. But what stood out most to me, was that Jeremy looked...disappointed?

* * *

_She's going to get a beating for not planning this through..._Jeremy thought while the cops lead Celline away to their uniformed cars in the front of the school and the crowd of curious students dispersed. He should have told her that he was on her side, but just in case something went wrong, he decided to play the dumb hostage. If it weren't for his Master sending a message to him that Celline had failed on that mission, he'd never think he'd reveal himself to the young novice by 'conveniently' positioning himself outside her biology class when the Templars arrived. _Don't get involved until the last second,_ he had told himself while waiting for her to either escape, or foolishly kill her would-be assassins in front of the entire class. She'd always been one to never think through a mission or completely get caught up in the fight to notice that one: she was being watched, or two: she was being snuck up on from behind.

_Well, I guess it's time for me to help her out..._he thought once he was all alone in the alleyway except for a police officer as his escort. They most certainly had some questions for him, as they needed the victim as a witness in Celline's upcoming trial. Allowing the cop to escort him to the cars, he began to think through his plan (unlike what Celline did).

* * *

_Damn you sons of a monkey's itchy butt!_ _O-o-oh you'd better hope I don't get out of these __handcuffs or I'll personally take the liberty to rip your heads off and piss down your throats!_ I couldn't help but let out a feral growl while I was shoved into the back of a police car, feeling the sensation all too familiar. _Damnit Celline! This happens EVERYTIME YOU DON'T PLAN THINGS THROUGH! What happens if Lucy finds out about this? And her superior? For her apprentice, you did one crack-up job at getting arrested and adding new crimes to your profile! Well done!_

But then, a commotion outside the car drew me out my thoughts. Looking out of the tinted window, I could vaguely make out what was going on, but no understanding as to why!

I saw Jeremy...fighting with liquid movements of force that were all taught centuries ago by the ancestors of my Order. Through head-high kicks, nose-breaking punches, panther-like dodging, and astounding movements of disarming, Jeremy had conquered over the police officers in probably less than a minute, much to fast for the cops to even realize what was going on. Even as he opened the door to the barricaded back-passenger seat, all I could do was stare dumbfounded at him.

"C'mon Celline, we don't have much time."

"Wha-what? H-how?" Fury escaped through me as his hands were on me and pulling me to my feet. I bit and snapped at his scarred hands, forcing him to back off slightly and I snarled, "Explain yourself! How do you know-"

My sentence was cut short as Jeremy grabbed my arm and sprinted across the parking lot, stepping over the unconscious beings of the law enforcers, to a beat up sedan. Picking the lock to the sorry-excuse car, he pushed me into the backseat and began to work on hot-wiring the vehicle. A moment later, the car started with a tired rumble that died down to a gutted hum. Putting the pedal to the metal, we bolted out of the parking and began making our way in a direction I knew where we needed to go: my house.

Seeing as his silence was probably a message to me that he needed to collect his thoughts, I most certainly wasn't going to wait for his well-thoughtout answer. Sitting up as best as I can, as the handcuffs were still on me, I practically shouted in his ear, "Why the hell are you here? I tried to kidnap you and you're the one who helped me get away from the cops? Are you mental or something? And where did you learn to fight like that? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU?"

After a moment of silence, adding magnitudes to my rising anger, Jeremy spoke quietly and calmly, "Shouting doesn't make you sound smart, Celline. And it can harm your voice too. So just take a deep breath, and once we gather our equipment and some supplies, I'll explain in detail what is going on, okay?"

Struck dumbfounded again, I could only lie back down on the backseat and try to get as comfortable as I can with my hands behind my back. The sooner I know what's going on, the better...

* * *

"Why didn't Lucy tell me there was another Assassin in Oregon?" I asked Jeremy, as calmly as I could. He had just explained to me that he was an Assassin, in fact, one that has been formally in the Order for six years now and at one point in time, was Lucy Stillman's apprentice. But when I joined the Order secretly - as my parents would not approve of my choice - three years after he did, Lucy assigned him to Northern California to carry on missions there.

I do remember as time progressed, and I soon was no longer a novice, Lucy warned me to keep a low profile out on missions and if I was caught, do anything to get out of the situation. She had also warned me to do anything to keep my parents unaware of my actions, as I may attract the attention of Templar operatives and they would use my family as leverage against me. I didn't pay much attention to her warnings, as such warnings were part of our creed, never to be broken! After months of sending encrypted emails to each other and passing on my crucial information, Lucy managed to get under the skin of the largest Templar-organized company in America: Abstargo. She discovered that the Templars were planning something BIG and were already in the process of finding out what that thing was. But, because of my rank, I was not allowed to gain anymore information and was just shunned out of the picture for a few more months, called every so often to take out a target that held ties to the company. Until a few days ago I received an email about a meeting taking place in Beaverton that I needed to 'attend' and gain the information that was collected on the latest star under the spotlight: Desmond Miles.

But none of that explained why Jeremy came into the picture...

"Listen, I know you're a bit confused and feeling a little betrayed..." Jeremy stepped towards my sitting form. We were in a cheap motel room, just off the highway toward The Dallas, as recent rumors stated that Miles was a bartender at a Western Style saloon in Pendleton, and Jeremy's calm, practiced footsteps were starting to unnerve me and made me believe his words were something that sounded more like betrayal.

I remained silent even as Jeremy stooped down to my level and began to examine my injuries. I felt self-conscious towards him staring at my shoulder and arm, as I had to take my shirt off to allow him to bandage the wounds. I couldn't help but be hurt and amazed at him. His hands worked quickly, as if aware that I was uncomfortable with me being half-naked, and soon my injuries were bandaged, disinfected, and on the road to recovery with an ice pack tied down.

"So, why did you not mention you were an Assassin when I ran into you?" I questioned him, curiosity and fury peaked through the veils of my supposedly calm voice.

"Strategy, Celline. I needed to make my kidnapping seem believable, so I let you threaten me when I realized you were an Assassin."

"When you realized?"

"Yes, I was aware that a fellow Assassin was in Aloha, but not exactly who."

"Why did you come to Aloha in the first place?" I soon found my voice rising in intensity, angered that he just gave me short answers and I had to fish them out for myself. "Did Lucy tell you to keep an eye out for someone who fits the Assassin profile? As a test or something?"

Jeremy stood up from his spot on the bed beside me and walked over to our Assassin robes and equipment. Gently picking up some of my weapons and examining them, he talked in a somewhat aloof voice, "Yes, it was a test, Cell'. A test for both of us to see if we can identify our allies from our enemies. But we both failed. We have nearly spent an entire school year together without the slightest idea that we had something in common besides the fact that we're extraordinary in gym class and complete nerds in the classroom." he unsheathed my sword and began to admire the deadly sting on the edge, letting it dance underneath the dim lamp light, "Why do you have this? Swords are outdated in the Order and are never carried into missions, only trained with when practicing disarming skills."

I could only glare at him for having the nerve to change topics on me, and questioning on my choice of arsenal. I wanted answers...and now. "And I wasn't informed this? Why did you show yourself to me AFTER the mission? When my life was at stake? Lucy could have had you come with me and saved us a hell of a lot of time! Ugh, what the bloody fuck is she DOING in New York?"

Jeremy strode back over to me, placing firm hands on my shoulders, "Don't speak ill of her. I'm sure she has reasons for her choices." Taking a deep breath, as I did too, he spoke again, "Listen, we may not have much time and we may have already missed him, so we leave early in the morning for Pendleton. It's important we get to Desmond before the mercenaries do."

I could only nod and plop down onto the disgusting bed. I was tired from today and so confused...a good night sleep may not come easily, but I sure as hell needed it.

* * *

Author's Note: Eh? Like it? Hate it? It was kinda of a bitch to write, mainly because I was planning on making Celline run without a fight, but it wasn't going so well and I decided "ASSASSIN'S DON'T RUN!" and killed those guys. And also with Jeremy, I wasn't sure if I was going to make him an immediate ally, more like the stupid teenager who got roped into this, but that wouldn't fit well with the story, especially when he assists her with the police.

Anyway, next chapter, I have no idea what to write for it...but I'll try my best and think extra hard tonight ^^

Please R&R!

**Translations:**

Éisd, mi déan cha away da, ach mi seall cha eile slighe. Fuirich anns sìth. - Listen, I do not enjoy this, but I see no other way. Rest in Peace.


End file.
